Rue convinced herself that this was her version of an airship captain’s amusing dalliance – piratical in nature. When she was a retired adventuress, she would look back upon this as the romantic indiscretion of her pillaging youth. She was resolute in her commitment to avoiding deep sentiment, knowing that Quesnel was an irreverent butterfly apt to flit off to a new colourful flower at any shift in the breeze. For example, she was painfully cognisant of the fact that he left her after each encounter. When Rue finally slept, it was always alone.
While Rue and Quesnel occupied their time with each other, Primrose spent the grey in philanthropic pursuits, teaching the sooties and decklings to read. Spoo and Virgil took up gambling. Primrose put a stopper on that right quick, but not before Virgil owed Spoo most of his worldly goods. Lady Maccon discovered Percy’s library and Footnote and took to both like a werewolf to venison. Percy mooched about the deck, displaced by Lady Maccon, or intent on avoiding literary temptation, or both. The destitute Virgil divided his time between assisting Primrose in her educational endeavours, running errands for Lady Maccon, and chasing after Percy with misplaced accessories.
They were near to leaving the aetherosphere when the idyllic journey became much less idyllic.
It was Rue’s own fault. She went to engineering to consult Quesnel without ascertaining that he’d be there. When it turned out he wasn’t, she was faced with Aggie. Rue couldn’t very well turn around and leave without talking to anyone.
“Miss Phinkerlington?”
Aggie finished assisting one of the sooties with a boiler fill before brushing her hands down her shirtfront ostentatiously and approaching Rue.
“Captain?” The tone implied some level of incompetence on Rue’s part.
“How are the coal bunkers? When we puff down, I’ve plans to refuel immediately, but I’d like to know we could get in and out on what we have if necessary.”
“Expecting a less than enthusiastic reception, are we?”
“No. The troubles of the eighties are long settled. I simply wish to know if we’re desperate.”
Aggie chewed a fingernail, which – considering the state of her hands – revolted Rue. “We’ll be fine to get down and back up, but we’d need a way station right quick after. Wouldn’t be able to get to grey again without strain.”
Rue nodded. “I appreciate your assessment.”
“Hardly see as how you need come all the way down to ask. Could’ve used the tube.”
Rue was ruffled. “It’s only polite to come in person. I find the blow horn unfriendly, don’t you?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
“Here I was thinking our little miss captain was chasing tail. Fraternising with the hired help and checking up on the peons.” Aggie’s freckles looked militant.
“I beg your pardon!” That was too far. “You don’t like me much, do you, Miss Phinkerlington?”
“Not used to it, are you? High up-and-up miss toff-lofty who got herself a ship because her vampire daddy likes to give her big toys. You ain’t earned one splinter of this beauty and everyone knows it.”
That stung. Rue was afraid Aggie was right. She didn’t deserve The Spotted Custard. She hadn’t developed into much of a captain yet, but she was doing her best. It didn’t help that Aggie kept undermining her authority.
Rue considered it quite an achievement that she did not flare into a temper, instead dousing her tongue with honey. “I am sorry you feel that way, Miss Phinkerlington. I assure you I’m well aware of the privilege of my position and I’m trying to do a good job. Did you have any constructive criticism or are you simply jealous?” She shouldn’t have added that last bit. Of course she shouldn’t. She should have been the better man… well, woman.
Aggie always had a rosy face because of the boiler heat, but at that she went bright red. “You” – she punctuated her words with a sharp puffs of angry breath – “are a spoiled little madam who no more belongs in charge of an airship than I belong as dance master to a dachshund.”
Rue was so arrested by the idea of Aggie in a dancing costume, she almost laughed. But this was a serious matter of insubordination. Aggie was an invaluable member of Quesnel’s team but should be dismissed for this kind of talk. Or would that be Rue behaving exactly like the spoiled girl Aggie accused her of being?
“Are you testing me, Miss Phinkerlington?” This was, in its way, an excellent challenge to her abilities as captain. Perhaps that was what Aggie was after.
“As if everything is about you.”
Rue frowned. There had to be something more personal to this dislike. Was Aggie jealous of Rue’s relationship with Quesnel? Rue didn’t dare ask, because if Aggie weren’t aware, the very question would expose Rue to further ridicule.
At that moment, the object of her thoughts rustled up. “Ladies?”
Rue gestured at him in a measuring way. “Miss Phinkerlington here was elucidating my innumerable deficiencies.”
“Oh, Aggie.” Quesnel’s tone conveyed disappointment.
Aggie crossed her muscled arms over her chest. “She gets us in the soup all too often, charging in without any thought to the fact that we must go along with her.”
Rue winced. She did have a propensity to enthusiastically drag her ship – and crew – off to goodness knows where. Egypt, for example. “Isn’t that why you signed on, for the adventure?”